


Fresh Eyes

by iwillnotbecaged



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 22:46:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9628595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillnotbecaged/pseuds/iwillnotbecaged
Summary: It wasn’t like Bucky hadn’t noticed that Sam was a good-looking guy before. He just hadn’t reallynoticednoticed.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the squad for the read through and encouragement!
> 
> Title from "Fresh Eyes" by Andy Grammer

“Some of that for me?”

Sam’s voice jerked Bucky out of his half-doze. It took him a second to figure out that Sam was referring to the brewing coffee that he had been staring at.

“Huh? Oh yeah, sure.”

Bucky turned, still only half awake, and found himself staring again, but this time at Sam. The light from the window was making him glow, casting shadows under his defined cheekbones and causing the beads of sweat on his arms to sparkle. He must have just gotten back from his run with Steve — they seemed to have some sort of competition going about who could wear the tightest shirt, and Bucky was pretty sure Sam had won today.

“You okay, man?”

Sam’s voice broke through the fog in his brain, and Bucky spun back around to grab a mug from the cabinet.

“Yeah, yeah, fine. Just...mornings, you know?”

Sam laughed, and then he was in Bucky’s space, leaning into his side to get a mug of his own. Bucky inhaled sharply before he could stop himself.

Sam backed away a few steps, hands out in front of him. “Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to get in your space.” He peered closer, and Bucky was thankful for the hair hanging down in his face. “You sure you’re okay? Rough night?”

Thankfully the coffee finished brewing, and Bucky waved Sam off, then poured himself a cup. “Nah, everything’s fine. Just not quite awake yet. I’ll see you later.”

Bucky took his coffee and sped off to his room, closing the door firmly behind him.

 

It wasn’t like Bucky hadn’t noticed that Sam was a good-looking guy before. He just hadn’t really _noticed_ noticed. He’d catalogued it, along with other information about Sam — highly-skilled fighter, classified experimental wingpack, smartass, etc. — but it hadn’t actually mattered.

Until now, apparently. 

Now he was hiding in his bedroom because he was pretty sure that if he went back into the kitchen, he was going to peel that too-tight shirt right off of Sam and lick the sweat from his collarbone. Which was not only an unsettling lack of impulse control, but also a really terrible idea considering the number of times he had seen Steve leaving Sam’s room blushing and half-dressed.

 

Bucky tried to act normal, but he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. Now that he’d noticed Sam, he couldn’t seem to _stop_ noticing him. He was jumpy and twitchy and had apparently lost all power of speech. He could see Steve worrying about him, and he wasn’t surprised — without context, his behavior looked a lot like the hypervigilance from his first few months back in New York.

It didn’t help that he wasn’t getting a lot of sleep. Sam and Steve forgot to try to be quiet once they got going, and thanks to his supersoldier hearing, it wouldn’t have made much of a difference if they had. Bucky would lay in his bed and hear it all — the laughs and the moans and even the little whimpers. And then when they finally went quiet, he was left there, painfully hard, until he either managed to drift off to sleep or gave in guiltily and jerked off.

After another night of little sleep filled with unsettlingly erotic dreams of gap-toothed smiles and broad shoulders, Bucky managed to wrap himself up in his blanket with just his one arm and stumbled into the kitchen. It was late enough that Steve and Sam should already be out of the apartment, off kissing babies or punching aliens or whatever was on the Avengers’ agenda that day.

He groaned internally when he found Sam sitting at the kitchen table in a beam of sunlight like some sort of goddamn Renaissance painting or something.

“Everything okay, man?” Sam asked, eyebrows drawn together in concern.

Okay, maybe not internally. “Uh, yeah. Fine. Just...mornings.”

Bucky’s response did nothing to lessen the concern on Sam’s face. “You’ve been saying that a lot lately. You sleeping okay?”

Bucky just waved his hand back and forth, hoping that Sam would let it go. He should have known better.

“Is it the nightmares again? You remember you don’t have to white-knuckle your way through that kind of shit, right?”

“You offering to be my therapist?” Bucky tried to deflect.

Sam scoffed. “Hell, no. Just reminding you that you do have one.”

“Yeah, thanks. It’s not that.” Don’t say it. Don’t say it. “It’s just...you and Steve are kinda...loud.” Idiot.

He watched Sam’s face slide from concern to confusion, and then straight into cocky. “Ah, I see. I’d say we’ll try to keep it down, but I’m not gonna lie to you. Sorry to offend your delicate sensibilities.”

Bucky blushed as he thought about the night before and how very unoffended he had been by what he heard. Sam’s eyes narrowed at him. Shit.

“Or maybe it’s something else.” Sam shifted closer. “Have we been keeping you...up?”

“Ugh, that’s awful,” Bucky groaned at the terrible pun. He tried to move past Sam and out of the tight quarters of the kitchen, but Sam forced him back against the counter, his strong arms bracketing Bucky’s body.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s the only reason you’re groaning right now.” 

Bucky looked up, ready to deny everything, but Sam was leering at him, eyes sparkling with amusement. What the fuck was happening?

“What the fuck is happening?”

“Well, Bucky, I’m hitting on you.”

Bucky’s brain shorted out. “But you — I — we don’t — I thought — what?”

Sam just laughed, although he did back away a bit. Bucky appreciated the breathing room. “Oh, come on. You thought what, that I hated you?”

“Well, kind of!” Bucky knew he sounded like a petulant child, but really.

“Look, even if I had — and I would have had good reason to — that was a long time ago. You’re not exactly the same guy who ripped my steering wheel out of my hands.”

“So...you’re hitting on me.”

“Yes.” That smile was inching closer again.

“And not as a joke?”

“Nope.” It really wasn’t fair of Sam to stand so close and smell so good. Bucky was trying to think, here.

“And Steve?”

“What about Steve?” 

“Well, you guys have, you know...”

“Really great sex?” 

Bucky rolled his eyes and pulled his blanket tighter around him. “Well, it doesn’t exactly sound like bad sex. But you know what I mean!”

Sam took a step back and crossed his arms, his face serious. “Look, Steve and I have a good time. And I’ll probably want to keep having a good time with him. But I don’t belong to Steve. I make my own choices about what I want.”

“And you want…”

“You to fuck me? Yes.” 

Bucky’s cheeks flushed even darker and his breath hitched at that. God, he wanted that too. But Sam was...Sam. He couldn’t drag him down into his shit.

“I’m still a mess, Sam.” 

“Good thing I don’t mind getting a little messy, then.” Sam’s smile was filthy.

“Was that some sort of innuendo? That was terrible.”

Sam moved back into his space again and Bucky was sure that this time he actually was going to die from sensory overload. He shivered as Sam’s hand slid up his side. “You’re terrible.” 

“Then why are you still here?” He tried to sound teasing, but was pretty sure he mostly just sounded desperate.

Sam’s smile softened. “Turns out I got a bit of a soft spot for terrible.”

Bucky dropped his eyes, shaking his head. “But I’m...you shouldn’t...I’m not —”

Sam rolled his eyes and cut him off. “Shut up, asshole.”

And then Sam was kissing him.

 

If Bucky had ever really let himself imagine kissing Sam, he would probably have imagined some sort of Disney princess, music swelling, fireworks exploding kind of kiss. He would have been wrong.

Kissing Sam blew straight past romantic and into orgasmic. Within seconds, Bucky was panting and moaning and certain he was about to come in his pants like he did that time Clara let him get his hand up her skirt.

The things the man did with his mouth.

Too soon, Sam pulled back and tangled a hand in the blanket that had slid off of Bucky’s shoulder. He walked backwards, tugging Bucky along with him. Somewhere on the way to Bucky’s room, he got tangled in the blanket and stumbled, only to have Sam catch him. He took advantage of the closeness to kiss him again.

Sam laughed against his mouth. “You forget how to walk, Barnes?”

“I’m distracted,” he retorted, his lips moving along Sam’s jaw to nibble on his ear.

“You’re hopeless,” Sam sighed, and then Bucky found himself in the air, Sam’s hands under his ass. He gasped and wrapped his legs around Sam’s waist on instinct, dropping his blanket so he could wrap his arm around Sam’s shoulders. Damn, those shoulders felt even better than they looked.

“You sure you want me to fuck you, and not the other way around?” He shifted in Sam’s grasp, squirming closer and seeking more friction.

Sam nipped sharply at Bucky’s neck and continued towards Bucky’s bedroom. “I’m sure. I just don’t want to wait for you to figure out how your feet work.”

Bucky tried to come up with some sort of response, but Sam’s mouth was doing things again, this time all up and down his neck and under his jaw, and all that came out was a moan.

“Mmmm,” Sam hummed against his skin. “You make such pretty noises. I can’t wait to make you scream; I bet you sound even better when you’re all hoarse and raspy.”

“Oh my god, Sam.” Bucky’s hitched himself up higher, hips rocking steadily against Sam’s stomach.

Sam carried him through the doorway and practically threw him on the bed.

“Hey!”

“Oh, shut up and take your shirt off.” Bucky would have complained more, but Sam’s hands were tugging on his waistband, so he just did as he was told. Sam finished pulling his sweatpants off, then crawled over him.

“Good boy,” he said, voice soft and low in Bucky’s ear, then captured his mouth in another filthy kiss.

Bucky dug his fingers into Sam’s back, pulling him even closer, relishing his solid weight pressing down on him. His efforts to pull Sam’s shirt up without actually letting go of him were ineffectual, and he didn’t think he had ever missed his left arm more than he did right this moment.

“Off...off,” he managed to groan in between sloppy wet kisses.

Sam sat up, ass pressing against Bucky’s cock, and stripped off his shirt. He wanted to lick every inch of him, and realized that there wasn’t any reason why he couldn’t. He levered himself up and slid his tongue along Sam’s collarbone, the salty-sweet taste of Sam’s skin even better than he had imagined.

Sam groaned, breathing heavier now, and Bucky smiled against his skin. He pulled Bucky’s head back by his hair, which was something they were definitely going to need to revisit, and rocked against his cock.

“Lube?” Dark eyes met Bucky’s, full of fire and want. He nodded towards the bedside table, the movement creating that delicious tug at his scalp again.

Sam crawled off him and pulled a condom and lube out of the drawer. He tossed them on the bed and Bucky watched as Sam shimmied out of his own sweatpants. He stroked his cock at the sight, not quite believing that he would soon be intimately acquainted with that ass. He was pretty sure that any minute he was going to wake up for real.

Then Sam was straddling him again, hovering over him and opening himself up, and Bucky knew he would never have been able to dream this up. Sam was making sweet little noises and his dick was dripping onto Bucky’s stomach and then there was Sam’s hand rolling a condom onto him and Sam’s thighs against his hips and Sam opening around him and everything was heat and pressure and electricity.

Sam paused and breathed, and everything inside Bucky screamed at him to move. His fingers tangled in the sheets, twisting and grasping until Sam reached down and laced their fingers together and pulled his hand up over his head, leaning over to kiss him. Bucky groaned at the new angle and couldn’t stop his hips from jerking up.

Thankfully Sam didn’t seem to mind, a slow grin spreading across his face. 

“That all you got?” Sam sat up and rolled his hips again, pressing back as Bucky thrust up into him. “Guess I’ll have to do all the work myself, then.”

Sam set a brutal pace, the muscles in his thighs flexing and bunching as he bounced on Bucky’s cock. His eyes were closed and his head was thrown back, exposing the long line of his throat. Bucky had thought he was close just from kissing Sam in the kitchen, but that was nothing compared to this. 

He reached out and grasped Sam’s cock, wanting him to come first, and Sam gasped, muscles clenching deliciously around Bucky. He could feel himself hurtling towards the edge when Sam rolled, reversing their positions and pulling Bucky on top of him.

“Come on,” he gasped, one hand flying on his cock, the other tangling into Bucky’s hair and pulling. “Give it to me.”

Bucky braced himself on his hand and did as he was told. He thrust into Sam hard, pushing him up the bed and forcing him to let go of Bucky’s hair and brace himself against the headboard. Bucky took the opportunity to lean down and fix his mouth onto Sam’s neck, kissing and sucking and biting, stopping just short of leaving marks, unsure if they would be welcome.

“Why so quiet, Barnes? Come on — let me hear you.”

Bucky moaned Sam’s name. 

“Yeah, that’s it. Don’t stop.”

Bucky wasn’t sure what spilled out of his mouth, but Sam’s legs tightened around him and his hand sped up even more. Bucky was barely holding on, hips moving erratically now, any sense of rhythm lost to his desperation. Just when he thought he couldn’t stand it any longer, Sam’s hips jerked up and he was coming, wet and warm all over the both of them, eyes squeezed shut and mouth hanging open. 

It was the most beautiful thing Bucky had ever seen. He gave one last thrust and followed Sam, a final scream escaping him.

When Bucky finished, he collapsed next to Sam on the bed. He was pretty sure he was actually dead, except that his chest was heaving and his pulse was throbbing throughout his entire body.

Sam leaned over the side of the bed and came back up with Bucky’s t-shirt, which he proceeded to use to clean them up, wrapping the used condom inside it before tossing it back on the floor.

“Ugh, that’s disgusting. And I like that shirt,” Bucky complained.

“You’ll live.” Sam propped himself up on one elbow, then leaned down to give Bucky a kiss. Where their earlier kisses had been scorching fire, this one was steady warmth, slow and lazy. Bucky could do this for days, weeks, _years_. God, he hoped he got to do this for years; he didn’t even care how sappy that sounded in his head.

He pulled back when he felt Sam’s hand drift down over his stomach and towards his groin.

“Whatcha doing there, Sammy?”

Sam hummed and dropped soft, sweet kisses across Bucky’s chest. “Steve can go quite a few rounds before he gets all tired out. You think you’re up for round two?” His smirk said he knew exactly what he was doing.

Bucky groaned as Sam’s hand closed around him, mouth following closely behind. Yep, he was definitely going to die. Totally worth it, though.


End file.
